


Light can be found even in the darkest of places

by Queenofthebees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Childbirth, F/M, Jon died in the war, Post-Canon, Sisters, but Sansa had baby Robb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 18:25:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13816890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: She peered into the basket, bright blue eyes blinking up at her. Her son, her sweet Robb, gurgled up at her. His fists were opening and closing over the blanket she had made for him. The hours she had spent stitching the red of Ghost’s eyes, the yellow of Lady’s. How she had imagined Jon’s face when she presented him his son wrapped in the Stark colours, surrounded and protected by their very selves.She loved her son, from the moment she knew she was with child she had loved them with all her heart. And yet, some cruel, selfish part of her hated how very much like his namesake he was. She had wanted a son named Robb for so long, she knew that Jon had to. And perhaps, if things had been different, it would have never crossed her mind.But Robb was the only child she and Jon would ever have.





	Light can be found even in the darkest of places

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry okay? Blame the anon prompter on Tumblr!  
> So we'll assume Arya and Sansa married Gendry and Jon respectively and both guys took the Stark name.

The gods were cruel.

It was something Sansa had come to believe long ago, when she had still been but a young and naïve girl, a little bird trapped in the cage of the capital.

Still, she had donned her courtesies and played the dumb, harmless girl to her captors. She had charmed the men she had needed to, her lessons from Petyr and Cersei had helped her to survive, had brought her home.

But no courtesy and no charm would bring Jon back home to her.

She peered into the basket, bright blue eyes blinking up at her. Her son, her sweet Robb, gurgled up at her. His fists were opening and closing over the blanket she had made for him. The hours she had spent stitching the red of Ghost’s eyes, the yellow of Lady’s. How she had imagined Jon’s face when she presented him his son wrapped in the Stark colours, surrounded and protected by their very selves.

She loved her son, from the moment she knew she was with child she had loved them with all her heart. And yet, some cruel, selfish part of her hated how very much like his namesake he was. She had wanted a son named Robb for so long, she knew that Jon had to. And perhaps, if things had been different, it would have never crossed her mind.

But Robb was the only child she and Jon would ever have.

And no matter how much she looked, she couldn’t see grey in the blue eyes, couldn’t see Jon’s full and pouting lips or his rounded nose.

Jon was gone and he had not even left anything of himself in her precious boy for her to cherish.

Still, Robb brings a sense of calm and happiness to the still recovering Winterfell. Her boy is barely three moons old and already the happiest little thing she has ever seen.

A dream of spring, she thought, her finger reaching to trace his soft cheek. The wolves will come again.

_But, not all of us._

Jon was gone. Ghost was too, perished with his master in the war against the Night King. Bran was dead too and Rickon remained on Skagos.

Arya was still here though.

And Sansa thought it would hurt to look upon her sister and think, was this what mother had felt? When she had never had a son with Stark looks and had ben made to look upon Jon and be reminded of what she could never have? But in a way, it makes it easier. For while Jon might not be seen in her baby boy’s features, Robb will grow up knowing what his father looked like whenever he looked upon his aunt.

And Arya adored her nephew.

“He looks so much like Robb,” she commented, her voice choking over the name when the baby was passed into Sansa’s arms after hours of labour.

“That is what he will be called,” Sansa whispered. “Robb Stark will be Lord of Winterfell after all.”

They shared a look, all the memories flashing between them and the knowledge that while he looks just like Robb, he will never be the brother they lost.

She had still been such a naïve little girl then. The news of Jon’s death still not reaching her ears. She was still imaging his face when he saw his son, the way he would gingerly take him in his arms and gaze upon him in awe. She had been thinking about all the other children they could have. A Ned and a Brandon and a Lyanna. Was this what Jeyne Westerling had felt when Robb was slain? Haunted by everything that could have been? All their dreams turned into nightmares and they were forced to live them every day.

***

“Will you have any children?” she asked as she emerged into her chambers and found Arya cradling Robb, pacing back in forth in front of the bed. Arya’s face twisted before she placed Robb back in his bassinet.

“I…I didn’t want to say,” her sister murmured as her hand pressed against her stomach. Sansa’s eyes widened before an excited laugh escaped her. She grasped her sister’s hand in her own, pressing them both against the tiny bump.

“Why ever would you not tell me?” she asked, moving her hand only to wrap her sister in a tight embrace.

“Because…Gendry is still here,” Arya whispered. “And, I knew you were still grieving Jon. I still am too. I guess, I didn’t want to tell you until it was necessary, to let you have that time.”

“Oh Arya,” Sansa mumbled, her lips in her sister’s hair. She wondered if her father could see them now. How proud he would be to see them like this, united and bonded and able to show their love for each other.

“What would Jon say if he were here?” Arya giggled, moving back to grin up at her. Sansa laughed.

“Nothing. He would probably just sit and blink dumbly,” Sansa commented fondly.

“Right before he would grab Longclaw and call for a block,” Arya added, her eyes glistening as her smile softened with the inevitable grief.

“I wouldn’t have allowed him to harm Gendry,” Sansa assured her. “I would have found a way to distract him.”

“I don’t think you would have had to try hard,” Arya said softly. “Jon could hardly ever seem to concentrate on what he was doing around you.”

Sansa’s lips curved into a small smile. Despite the ache in her chest, the continuing crushing sadness of knowing Jon will never come back to her and that she may never know love again, in this moment she is happy to have had him all the same.

***

Arya’s eyes were wide and panicked, her hand grasping Sansa’s tight. Sansa whispered encouragement and praise, her voice calm and reassuring as Arya groaned and pushed again. Sansa was not going to cry, she was not going to panic even if her mind was reeling.

_Not Arya too. Please, please don’t take her too._

“You’re almost there,” Sam commented. “I can see the head!”

“You can do this Arya,” Sansa whispered, pressing her handkerchief to her sister’s damp forehead.

_Robb, father, mother please protect her._

“I can’t,” Arya sobbed, shaking her head as she collapsed back into the furs. Sansa placed her other hand upon their already clasped ones.

 _Jon_. _Jon,_ _please, please don’t let the Gods take her from me._

“You can,” Sansa stated firmly, hoping her own fear was hidden as Arya met her eyes. Sansa swallowed and gave her sister her sternest expression. “You’re a Stark, do you hear me? Mother and father and Robb and Jon will fight the Gods themselves if they try to take you now. Now one last push Arya, one more.”

Her sister swallowed thickly and nodded, hoisting herself back up. She cried out, her whole body shaking as she put her whole energy into one final push.

The crying echoed around the room instantly and Sansa realised she had been holding her breath as it suddenly escaped in a shaky exhale.

“A boy,” Sam smiled up at them as he placed a damp cloth to the tiny being. Arya gave a delirious laugh, her hand still clutched in Sansa’s own and squeezing. Sansa beamed at her, moving to embrace her sister.

“Congratulations,” she whispered. “Shall I let Gendry in?”

Arya nodded, her eyes fixed upon her son as Sam handed him over to her. Sansa smiled as she watched her sister stare down at her child. For all her wildness and wilfulness, this softness is something that has always been beneath the surface in Arya. Motherhood would suit her, Sansa thought.

She may never have any more children and never with Jon. But Arya and Gendry could have as many as they liked, could fill the halls of Winterfell with them just as Sansa had once hoped to do.

Gendry bounded into the room when Sansa opened the door, fussing over Arya and pressing desperate kisses to her forehead until she swatted him away with her free hand.

“I’m fine you idiot,” she grumbled even as she struggled to keep her lips from curling into a smile. Sansa moved back to the side, peering down at her new nephew.

“Have you thought of a name?” she asked, smiling at the way the precious boy licks his lips

Her heart stopped when he opened his eyes and she was met with a grey, almost black, gaze. Arya’s eyes, she thought, feeling a choked sob rise through her throat. Jon’s eyes.

“There is only one name it could be,” Arya replied, her own voice hoarse with emotion. “Jon Stark.”


End file.
